Rook 3 The Terror by Graham Masterton

Author:Graham Masterton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Jim ran down the slope like he had never run before. He hurtled into Charlene and it was like colliding with a punchbag in the gym. She toppled over and rolled down the slope and Jim was rolling on top of her. At the same time he felt a blow on his shoulder – something as hard and coarse and heavy as a block of concrete.

They reached the bottom of the slope and Charlene was gasping for breath. She lay on her back with her stomach bulging out of her tracksuit, her little white training shoes kicking up and down. Jim clambered to his feet and seized her hands.

"Charlene, get up! Listen to me, you have to get up!"

At the top of the slope he saw the shadow turning. For a moment the sun shone through it, and turned its smoky swirling into a face, of sorts, and then another face, and then another. Jim had never been so frightened in his life. He knew what he was looking at – the faces of collective fear. The worst terrors that haunted the human race, all twisted into one. And they were determined to tear him apart.

"Charlene! You have to get up!"

But Charlene kept on panting and whimpering and kicking her feet and she wouldn't move. She must have weighed all of 270 lbs and Jim simply couldn't lift her.

"Charlene, for Christ's sake, we're going to die!"

"I don't – I don't understand—" Charlene puffed.

Jim took hold of her hands again and tried to pull her up. "Charlene, you just have to trust me. You know that I can see things that other people can't. There's something after us, here and now, and it's the same thing that killed Fynie. So please, Charlene, get up on your feet and run like hell!"

"I can't, Mr Rook, I—"

The shadowy Terror was halfway down the slope now, almost on top of them. It may have been invisible to everybody except Jim, but it disturbed the grass as it rushed toward them, making it swirl in windy patterns, like crop circles. Jim could see scores of pale, staring eyes swimming in its smoky head, and lips drawn back over layers of ragged teeth.

As the Terror came closer still, he was suddenly buffeted by a wind as strong as a hurricane, yet utterly silent. His hair was blown wildly and his tie flapped around his neck.

"Charlene!" he yelled. "We have to get out of here now!"

Charlene tugged at Jim's sleeve and managed to climb to her feet. But instead of attempting to run she stayed where she was, pink-cheeked, smiling a vacant, beatific smile.

"What's the matter with you?" Jim shouted. "Charlene – what the hell is the matter with you? Run!"

But Charlene shook her head. "There's nothing the matter with me, Mr Rook. I'm not afraid of anything at all."

Jim didn't know what to say. The Terror was bearing down on them – only ten feet away now – and she must have been able to feel how close it was.

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